Sleeping Beauty
by Rosie-not-Rose
Summary: The Doctor has come close to losing Rose one time too many.


It had taken twenty four hours of anxiety, despair and a final huge battle before the Doctor had Rose back in his arms. She shouldn't have wandered off. The Doctor had been very angry, but hidden deep within him was also a feeling of pride. Her ability to get into life threatening situations scared him to death, but the fiery passion burning inside her drew the Doctor to Rose in a way he could never have imagined.

Of course, you wouldn't think she possessed anything of the sort, looking at her now.

Rose was lying on her side, sleeping peacefully, in a large white double bed, cocooned in the thickest duvet the Doctor had ever laid eyes on. She had only been rescued hours before and needed a good few days to completely recover. Fortunately, the local village on this planet were more than happy to provide.

Suddenly, Rose stirred, frowning. The Doctor's eyes flicked to her, wondering if she was going to wake already. However, she didn't, but the look of discomfort didn't leave her face. The Doctor had a sudden overwhelming urge to pick her up and hug all the hurt out of her, asleep or not, but he swallowed the feelings, and merely continued to stand against the doorway watching her. He couldn't understand how this situation was different to any other, and yet he had a feeling that something had changed, inside his head. Rose shifted again, her leg appearing from under the duvet and drifting over the side of the bed. As the Doctor's eyes automatically panned down her smooth calf, he felt his stomach contract in a way that was _very_ unlike him, though not entirely unpleasant.

He was slipping, and he could do nothing to stop it. Without giving his legs permission, the Doctor began walking very slowly towards Rose's bed. When he reached it, he sat down gingerly on the edge, despite his mind screaming, "_Very bad idea!" _Just as he moved his hand towards her face, Rose stirred and opened her eyes blearily. The Doctor whipped his hand backwards as if he had been burned. It seemed as though Rose's return to consciousness had brought him awareness, too. What had he been about to do?

"Hi." Rose turned towards the Doctor sleepily and gave him a full on beam. The Doctor found it a lot more difficult than usual to return it, though he did his best.

"Feeling alright?" he asked, hoping she wouldn't question why he was currently sitting _on her bed_, very near to her.

"M'alright," Rose commented, scrunching up her nose as she considered. "Bit sore." She suddenly grinned. "How long have you been there?"

"Hmm?" Crap.

"Sitting there, watching me." Rose was smirking slightly now, enjoying his discomfort.

"Erm, I dunno. A bit." It felt like a lifetime, though.

"Mmm, well I'm sorry if I drooled or snored or anything." She laughed and the Doctor was tempted to follow her.

"Nono, none of that. You were . . . quite beautiful," he added, and immediately wished he hadn't. Colour flooded his cheeks and he found he couldn't look at Rose, fixing his eyes on the sink next to her bed.

If Rose found anything about that comment odd, she chose to ignore it. "Sleeping beauty, yeah?"

The Doctor chuckled quietly, still avoiding her gaze. "Something like that."

A silence fell between them. The Doctor heard Rose breathe a small sigh and was instantly worried he had said or done something wrong. His thoughts were confirmed when she suddenly lay down properly again and said, "I might get some more sleep, that ok?"

"Yeah! Yeah, fine, of course," the Doctor said hurriedly, his heart sinking, and he instantly stood up. Just as he turned to leave, he caught her gazing at him intently; it was almost as though she was attempting to x-ray him, trying desperately to understand. The problem was; he didn't understand any of it himself. He wrenched his eyes from hers and stepped out into the kitchen of the small wooden hut they were staying in.

Within a minute, and with a confident air, the Doctor strode right back into the room, causing Rose to almost jump out of her skin. In two long strides he reached the bed, sat down and pulled Rose into a sitting position. Without considering the consequences, he placed one hand on Rose's cheek, and the other on the bare skin on her waist that her pyjamas didn't cover, causing her to twitch slightly and draw in a nervous breath. He was about to move closer when he suddenly caught sight of her face, and faltered. She looked . . . scared. And suddenly he couldn't do it.

Seconds passed, then half a minute, then a minute, and all the time their eyes never left each other. Rose no longer looked worried, but her expression was unfathomable. The Doctor was just about to pull away from her, his chest painfully constricted, when she spoke.

"Doctor?"

He just looked at her, wide-eyed.

"It's OK." Pause. "It really is. It's better than OK, it's –" Her sentence was cut off when the Doctor pounced suddenly, and their lips met. He was still being somewhat hesistant and very gentle, as if sure she was going to pull away at any second, and she reassured him by pressing her lips more insistently against his, and bringing her hand up to run through his soft ruffled hair. She instantly felt him sigh heavily and relax against her. They continued in this vein for several moments, until the Doctor changed tack and began to caress her jaw and neck with his lips, and suddenly Rose felt as though she had missed a step going downstairs. She pulled away from him suddenly, feeling flustered, and noticed the Doctor looked slightly shell-shocked at what had just happened. A giggle rose in her throat.

"Can I expect that sort of treatment every time I wander off?" she asked. "Maybe I should do it more often."


End file.
